


Murderous Glares Over Wasabizushi

by Mel_S_Bancroft



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Attempt at Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 04:06:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5570386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mel_S_Bancroft/pseuds/Mel_S_Bancroft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fuji is not pleased when his little brother invites his boyfriend to dinner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Murderous Glares Over Wasabizushi

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [iusoG ninneT](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/7289451/), a user on ff.net, and inspired by a conversation we had. I tried out a new writing style for it (it's just how it flowed). I hope it works, and that no one is _too_ out of character, as I haven't written any of these characters before.

Midzuki doesn’t know what he was thinking when he agreed to this.

His adorable Yuuta-kun had invited him to dinner with his family on this rare day that he’s visiting home. Naturally, he’d agreed. If he was going to date someone, it was common courtesy that he meet and make a good impression on his parents and siblings.

Now, he knew that Fuji-kun didn’t particularly like him for hiding the truth about the Twist Spin Shot from Yuuta. In his defense, he _had_ wanted to tell him, but he’d never gotten a chance because it was never a good time. Now, though, he makes sure to pay more mind to his players and always puts their health before the importance of winning. Never again would he risk utter humiliation and psychological damage because of something like that.

He shudders, and not just because of where his thoughts are taking him. Presently Fuji-kun is calmly eating wasabizushi and _staring right at him_ —no, _glaring_ is more the right word—from where he’s sitting directly across the table from him. Midzuki averts his gaze, nervously threading and unthreading his fingers together in his lap, but he can still feel that piercing blue-eyed gaze bore holes into him.

“U-Um, Yuuta?” he asks nervously, cursing himself silently for allowing the stutter into his voice.

But his boyfriend doesn’t hear him; he’s too busy talking with his sister.

“Yuuta?” he presses, panic seeping into his voice, drawing out the first syllable.

“Hm?” The boy starts a bit, then turns to Midzuki. “Yes, Midzuki-senpai?”

“Can you…” He spares a glance out of the corner of his eye for his rival. _“Can you tell him to stop glaring at me?”_ he whispers loudly, apprehension twisting in his gut.

Yuuta turns his head toward his brother. “Aniki?”

“Yes, Yuuta?” All traces of his earlier murderous glare gone, Fuji-kun turns to his brother, smiling innocently like the total, completely-not-sadistic-at-all angel that he is _not_ , the bastard.

Wait, maybe he shouldn’t be calling his boyfriend’s elder brother a bastard, even if it is in his head. Even if it is true.

Yuuta turns back to him then, brows furrowed slightly in worry. “Are you okay, Midzuki-senpai?”

And he can _read_ in those kind, naïve eyes that he thinks that he’s imagining things, that he believes that his precious aniki _is_ an angel. Inwardly he despairs—both at that and at the fact that he can feel Fuji’s eyes on him again, can practically _see_ , out of the corner of his eye, a palpable, murderous aura around him and _how the hell is no one else seeing this??_

Laughing, Yumiko-san stands from the table and excuses herself to the living room. After she has gone, Fuji-kun smiles at his brother again.

“Yuuta, will you go with nee-san for a bit?”

He gazes in confusion at him for a moment, then—ah, yes, he’s sensed— _finally!_ —that something is off with his brother and will come to his rescue—nods once.

_Nononononono don’t leave me here, Yuuta-kun, don’t—_

He stands and excuses himself from the table as well. As if nothing was wrong. When there _was_. As if he, Midzuki Hajime, weren’t about to get murdered by one Fuji Shuusuke. When he _was_. Did he want his brother to be a murderer? No—did he want his _boyfriend_ to be _murdered?_

Fuji’s aura ramps up even more than before as soon as they are alone, and Midzuki is positive that he really can see it this time—black and blue and purple and most certainly evil and out to kill him. Oh, dear gods, he was going to die.

His blue eyes harden and seem to glint with some internal light as he leans forward over the table to Midzuki. “If you hurt my little brother in any way,” he threatens, voice deathly calm and so low that Midzuki almost has to strain forward—but he doesn’t because _oh gods, no, there is no way he’s getting any closer to_ that, _he will_ die—in order to hear; “You won’t be getting away with merely a broken pride.”

Widened eyes nearly bulging out of his head, Midzuki nods once, fiercely. Fuji smirks in apparent satisfaction and settles back into his seat, returning quietly to his wasabizushi.

He _really_ does not know what he was thinking when he got himself into this.


End file.
